05-16-2006, 01:25 AM
The Ader smirked, reminiscing. Dante?s Abyss, he thought with bitter appreciation, brought out the best in me. But the bitter tinge came with remembering how it?d ended for him. What is it with people and blowing me up?
He looked around, eyes shifting from the numerous people roaming the streets, their faces drawn or they?re minds uncannily absent, to the buildings with their graying facades like so many wind-washed stones. He sensed powers about, but to what extent he did not know, as those senses had been robbed of him by a dead hibernation. Jack hadn?t been much stronger when he?d entered in the past. Anyways, he figured, old king kai probably misses me anyway.
The Ader sparked a cigar and strode into the throng of people, wading toward the sign-up booth. He had to stoop low, to nearly half his height, to speak to the man behind the booth who looked up at him with a bored grimace.
?Name and registration?? The man with the pencil thin mustache said, ?We?re going to need to see some credentials too. Only forty-four participants this time around.?
So this is what it had come too. Had he really fallen so far from grace? ?The name?s Jack,? he said in a muffled, weary voice. ?Space Pirate extraordinare?? The man regarded him with that same blank stare. Jack sighed. Fuck. ?Alright.? He said, mildly exasperated. ?Gimme something to kill Johnny.? The man?s name, could?ve in fact, been any number of things other than Johnny, but it was simply what the Ader felt fitting.
The man, with his slicked back, perfectly parted hair melodramatically motioned for him to step around, a Fuck you smile stretching from one side of his face to the other. Jack paced around, following the man through more crowds, past many fighters, and stopped abruptly before a ringed platform. ?Wait a moment,? he said to Jack, ?there?ll be more hopefuls soon.?
He nodded, eyes flickering up to the passing clouds. Why am I here? He wondered, and even as he asked the question the answer was on his lips. Because when you?re dead inside there?s nothing left but trails. Perhaps it was the physical aspect of it, that tore his mind from memories.
?Ah. Here comes one now.? The registrar commented, pointing. His opponent came up to his abdomen, and wore a yellow gi with some undecipherable symbol stenciled across the back. His head was shaven and monk-like with a few dots tattooed in an arrangement on top. He walked with a sort of egotistical throwback of his shoulders, and smiled fiercely even as he saw the Ader, looming above the rest of the crowd. Jack caught his eye, frowned, and looked down at the weasely man with the mustache.
?That?s it?? Jack asked. ?Him? I?m going to tear this kid apart Johnny boy.?
?Then let?s see it, eh?? The man gave him another one of those looks, the kind that?d make anyone wanna clock him one, and Jack turned a graceful back flip into the ring without another word. There were bloodstains on the canvas, and rips here and there. The registrar was filling in the monk, who didn?t seem too impressed with the gymnastics. They want a show, eh? He chewed on a smoldering cigar thoughtfully. ?Hey Johnny boy!? The man turned from the monk, interrupted and scowling at the title. ?Can I kill em?? He asked casually, to which the man replied with a toothy grin.
?We encourage it.?
And with that the monk leapt into the ring. ?You?ve far underestimated me big boy,? the monk started. ?If anyone dies here it won?t be me. I?ve trained longer then you?ve been more than cumstain on some alien panties.? What a monk, Jack thought, and chuckled. The truth of this remark seemed to be reflected in his brown eyes as he sized the Ader up, or what he thought to be the truth of it. ?That so?? Jack asked.
?Sure enough.? The monk replied. Jack flicked his wrist, flinging a baseball sized globe of ki at him. He saw it coming, swatted it aside easily enough, and it crashed into a jeering crowd throwing a lesser human into the air. Still, it had made the right impression, he saw, in the monk?s eyes. Jack, still smirking with cigar hanging from his lips, made an obscene gesture with one hand and motioned for the bald fighter to bring it on with the other.
He came quick, but nowhere near as fast as Jack had encountered before, and he side stepped the man easily enough, flicking his wrist and to throw aside one of the weak punches. He hit the ropes, turned and used the momentum to spring him back toward the Space Pirate, who evaded him once more. ?Ya got nothin?.? Jack taunted.
The monk roared, spinning with his leg extended in a hooking fashion but again, struck air. He could smell nicotine and fetid breath, and heard laughter. A strong hand, Too fucking strong! he thought, and it was his last, gripped his shoulder and spun him round. The Ader spat his cigar out, caught it up with his free hand mid-air and stabbed it burning tip first, six inches into the monk?s head with a pop like someone stepping on an under-ripe grape. He held the bald man there a moment, then let him drop to the canvas.
?Ey Johnny boy! That do ya?? The registrar nodded unflinchingly. This was, of course, a messy business. If he turned green every time someone got stabbed in the eye with a cigar then he wouldn?t be much a spokesman for Dante?s Abyss at all.
OOC: I'm thinking I covered the entry.
He looked around, eyes shifting from the numerous people roaming the streets, their faces drawn or they?re minds uncannily absent, to the buildings with their graying facades like so many wind-washed stones. He sensed powers about, but to what extent he did not know, as those senses had been robbed of him by a dead hibernation. Jack hadn?t been much stronger when he?d entered in the past. Anyways, he figured, old king kai probably misses me anyway.
The Ader sparked a cigar and strode into the throng of people, wading toward the sign-up booth. He had to stoop low, to nearly half his height, to speak to the man behind the booth who looked up at him with a bored grimace.
?Name and registration?? The man with the pencil thin mustache said, ?We?re going to need to see some credentials too. Only forty-four participants this time around.?
So this is what it had come too. Had he really fallen so far from grace? ?The name?s Jack,? he said in a muffled, weary voice. ?Space Pirate extraordinare?? The man regarded him with that same blank stare. Jack sighed. Fuck. ?Alright.? He said, mildly exasperated. ?Gimme something to kill Johnny.? The man?s name, could?ve in fact, been any number of things other than Johnny, but it was simply what the Ader felt fitting.
The man, with his slicked back, perfectly parted hair melodramatically motioned for him to step around, a Fuck you smile stretching from one side of his face to the other. Jack paced around, following the man through more crowds, past many fighters, and stopped abruptly before a ringed platform. ?Wait a moment,? he said to Jack, ?there?ll be more hopefuls soon.?
He nodded, eyes flickering up to the passing clouds. Why am I here? He wondered, and even as he asked the question the answer was on his lips. Because when you?re dead inside there?s nothing left but trails. Perhaps it was the physical aspect of it, that tore his mind from memories.
?Ah. Here comes one now.? The registrar commented, pointing. His opponent came up to his abdomen, and wore a yellow gi with some undecipherable symbol stenciled across the back. His head was shaven and monk-like with a few dots tattooed in an arrangement on top. He walked with a sort of egotistical throwback of his shoulders, and smiled fiercely even as he saw the Ader, looming above the rest of the crowd. Jack caught his eye, frowned, and looked down at the weasely man with the mustache.
?That?s it?? Jack asked. ?Him? I?m going to tear this kid apart Johnny boy.?
?Then let?s see it, eh?? The man gave him another one of those looks, the kind that?d make anyone wanna clock him one, and Jack turned a graceful back flip into the ring without another word. There were bloodstains on the canvas, and rips here and there. The registrar was filling in the monk, who didn?t seem too impressed with the gymnastics. They want a show, eh? He chewed on a smoldering cigar thoughtfully. ?Hey Johnny boy!? The man turned from the monk, interrupted and scowling at the title. ?Can I kill em?? He asked casually, to which the man replied with a toothy grin.
?We encourage it.?
And with that the monk leapt into the ring. ?You?ve far underestimated me big boy,? the monk started. ?If anyone dies here it won?t be me. I?ve trained longer then you?ve been more than cumstain on some alien panties.? What a monk, Jack thought, and chuckled. The truth of this remark seemed to be reflected in his brown eyes as he sized the Ader up, or what he thought to be the truth of it. ?That so?? Jack asked.
?Sure enough.? The monk replied. Jack flicked his wrist, flinging a baseball sized globe of ki at him. He saw it coming, swatted it aside easily enough, and it crashed into a jeering crowd throwing a lesser human into the air. Still, it had made the right impression, he saw, in the monk?s eyes. Jack, still smirking with cigar hanging from his lips, made an obscene gesture with one hand and motioned for the bald fighter to bring it on with the other.
He came quick, but nowhere near as fast as Jack had encountered before, and he side stepped the man easily enough, flicking his wrist and to throw aside one of the weak punches. He hit the ropes, turned and used the momentum to spring him back toward the Space Pirate, who evaded him once more. ?Ya got nothin?.? Jack taunted.
The monk roared, spinning with his leg extended in a hooking fashion but again, struck air. He could smell nicotine and fetid breath, and heard laughter. A strong hand, Too fucking strong! he thought, and it was his last, gripped his shoulder and spun him round. The Ader spat his cigar out, caught it up with his free hand mid-air and stabbed it burning tip first, six inches into the monk?s head with a pop like someone stepping on an under-ripe grape. He held the bald man there a moment, then let him drop to the canvas.
?Ey Johnny boy! That do ya?? The registrar nodded unflinchingly. This was, of course, a messy business. If he turned green every time someone got stabbed in the eye with a cigar then he wouldn?t be much a spokesman for Dante?s Abyss at all.
OOC: I'm thinking I covered the entry.